


Last Goodbye

by mgsmurf



Series: The Path Ahead [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgsmurf/pseuds/mgsmurf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When did we stop completing each other?” Jaime asked. “Speak nothing of me owing you, missing me, loving me.”<br/>Jaime had thought he'd finally grown past Cersei controlling him, but something deep inside him broke at her sobs. He couldn't deny her one last night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> In order this would fall between Part 5 and Part 1. Not a lot of Brienne in this, purposely so.

Jaime sat in his room, those of the Hand of the King. His armor sat neatly to the side, red and gold of Lannister adorned with lions. Not the usual attire for a wedding, but he couldn't really see himself getting decked up in anything less. On his knees rested his sword, well made and balanced, although not Valaryian steel as Oathkeeper was. He ran the sharpener along it again, not that he intended to need a sharpened sword at his own wedding, but because he knew Brienne would be doing the same in her own room tonight. 

The door creaked open and a figure slipped into the room. He looked up, almost reached for the hilt of the sword, before he noticed it was Cersei. 

“Jaime,” she said breathless. 

“Dear sister.” Her actions mirrored his own from all those years it had been him slipping into her rooms late at night. 

“Hopefully you are not going to need a sword tomorrow.” Cersei glanced at the laid out armor, but made no comment on it. 

“Two swords, and hopefully not.”

Cersei's lips pursed together. “Yes, of course.” Her look gave away everything she hated about the idea of him marrying Brienne, the disgust at him loving such a 'beast of a woman' as he had only let Cersei say to him once. 

“If you've come here to berate me...” Jaime stood and laid the sword on the desk to finish later. As he did so it became apparent that he was without his golden hand. The straps on it rubbed raw after a day, and tomorrow he would be wearing it for longer than usual. 

Cersei's eyes fell to the dangling sleeve of his arm, and quickly back to his face. He wondered if the moment he'd returned from the North not quite a whole man was the one she'd stopped loving him. 

“I haven't...” She paused and looked so uncertain, like the innocent child she had not been since they were the very mirror images of each other. Her hair was terribly short but evenly cut. Yet she still wore the finest red gown, decked with gold trim. 

She fiddled with a draped sleeve of her gown, finally looked back up at him and took a step closer. “Do you remember the night before my wedding night?”

“Yes.” Jaime made sure to say before she could say King Robert's name. She'd had only one wedding. While the newly crowned king had found merriment in wine and a brothel, Jaime had snuck into Cersei's room. They had made love until almost dawn, thinking it would be their last time to ever complete each other. 

Cersei gave him a smile that tried to be seductive. “Why not repeat the honor?”

“Repay the debt?” Jaime moved around the desk to stand before it with her. 

“Yes.” The seductive smile repeated. Jaime tried not to think who that smile worked with today, surprisingly not him anymore. 

“I mean to honor my vows to her.” Jaime frowned. 

“But you have not given them, yet.” She stepped closer. “You have not even bed her, yet.”

Jaime scowled. “What would you have me do, Cersei, wet my cock with you tonight, to deflower her upon the same sheets tomorrow?”

“Must you be so coarse?” She frowned. 

“Must you be so depraved?”

“You used to like depraved,” she whispered at his cheek. 

“I used to like you.” Jaime swung his hand, before he realized he swung the missing right one, so all that waved was his shortened arm, the white of a scar that patched up the broken flesh falling from his sleeve. He lowered his arm at Cersei's gasp. 

Jaime growled and grabbed the golden hand from the desk. He could not even have an argument with his very sister, his twin, his once lover, without her hating his new incomplete self. He leaned over the desk, wrenched up his sleeve, and laid his arm on it to strap back on his gold hand. 

Cersei made a point of staring only at the side of his face. Her fingers touched his hair, the corner of his eyes and mouth. “When did you become so gray, so age-worn?”

“A year of imprisonment and being harshly cared for by the baser levels of society can do that.” He shrugged, knowing making a show of false confidence had never worked with Cersei. He touched the side of her own eyes where the years had added fine wrinkles. “Time has not left you untouched either, sister.” He reached up to touch her short hair, noticing a few gray roots among the gold. 

“Do not touch the hair.” Her voice paused his hand and held it hovering above, not touching. He had told her it would grow back given time. Better than his hand which would not. But, he knew that whatever the High Sparrow had broken in her in that walk across the city would never fully heal. 

Jaime stepped back. “When did we stop completing each other?” 

There had been a few moments, after their youth, when Jaime had been sent away to study swordmanship and for a few years after Cersei's wedding, that their affections had waned. But still apart they had been two halves of a whole. 

Cersei studied her hands, still rough from a month in a cell. “When you attacked Ned Stark in the streets over our brother and fled the city to go to war and get yourself captured.”

“You left me with the wolves in a cage to rot.” Longing to get back to her and their children was what had made him live then.

Cersei looked up. “Father did that.”

“Yes, and I still would have moved the earth and all of the Seven to get back to you.” But the games she played to keep herself and her children safe and in power had been more important that throwing everything away to anger Father and go get him. 

Cersei stepped up to him, their chests meeting. “We have both wronged each other.” She swallowed and her eyes held nothing but honesty for the first time in ages. “Tomorrow you will never be mine again, never. Please, my dear Jaime.” Tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her pale cheeks. 

Jaime reached out and grabbed her slender neck, he rested his forehead against hers. He heard you begin words and said, “Speak nothing of me owing you, missing me, loving me.” 

She quivered against him as she sobbed. He knew her, and this was not a game she played. Jaime had thought he'd finally grown past her controlling him, but something deep inside him broke at her sobs. When he had returned with Mrycella dead, before he sent anyone to track down Brienne to ask for her hand, he had offered to help piece Cersei back together, to heal her as Brienne had him. She had refused, no longer needing him that way. 

Jaime raised his head. He traced one of her lips, still rough from a month of thirst. Then, he was surging forward and kissing her. He thrust his tongue past those rough lips. His gold hand on her waist, he turned her and walked her backwards toward the bed. 

He twirled her around and rucked up her elegant gown. Cersei's hands lowered her underclothes, while Jaime fumbled one-handed with the laces of his pants. How was he already so hard and aching for her? 

His hand found her folds, already dripping wet. He parted her and entered her with no kindness. 

“Jaime,” she moaned. 

“Don't speak.” His voice sounded harsh to his ears. He gripped her waist, fingers on one side and the gold hand on the other both dug bruises into her flesh. Jaime pulled out and drove himself back in, and again, and again. It always felt so good to be fucking her. Cersei buried her face in the mattress to cover her screams. Her hands clenched the soft sheets. 

He felt her quiver. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock. She was oh so close, just on the edge of climax. Jaime pulled out. 

“On the bed,” he growled. He didn't need to say on all fours, so he could kneel behind her. It was how they both liked best, how they'd likely made at least a few of their children. She turned and looked over her shoulder. He expected to see anger that he hadn't let her finish, but her green eyes held none. For a moment, he fumbled and wondered what new version of his dear sister he might be with. 

Cersei lowered her elbows to the bed, eyes still on him. “Fuck me, Jaime. Please.”

Jaime found himself crawling onto the bed. Barely behind her raised ass, he rammed himself back into her. She grunted at the action. So he repeated it. He rammed into her swift, harsh and bruising. He felt one of her hands please her clit, which only made him drive harder into her willing folds. 

Her name ghosted on his lips over his moans and grunts. Cersei lifted her body, her back flush against his chest. His gold hand held her against him. Their hips clashed and met with a fierceness. Jaime gripped her slender throat with his hand. His face rubbed against the fuzz of her hair where it once would have buried in her curls. Her pulse pounded on his palm. She turned her head and their lips met. Teeth bit and tongues lashed. 

Jaime felt her clench around him and the kiss stole away the scream that exited her lips as she came. He barely managed to pull himself out and spill his seed on her bare ass. His breath harsh in his ears as the thrumming of his release leached from him. 

She was no longer married, would not marry again unless it gave her power she desired. If he got her with child they would have to rid her of it, and he did not want to image how much that would break her after the lost of two of their children. 

They finally came apart. “Take off your clothes.” Jaime moved to sit on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots. Cersei only stared at him. “Unless you want this to be all of tonight.” He motioned to the bed where they'd just fucked. “Your gown at least,” he finally added in case she did not feel comfortable naked to even him after what the High Sparrow had done. 

Jaime took off his shirt, undertunic and pants, leaving only his undershorts. He tugged the laces closed on those. Cersei undid her own laces to remove her gown and sat down beside him in just her shift. Jaime frowned down at his golden hand, a useless weight. 

“Can I...” He sighed. “I'm not any use with this.” Cersei looked at the hand in his lap. It may have been the second time she had ever really looked at it on him. “I'll cover the scar.” He knew that did distress, the ragged flesh that had been horribly patched together. 

“You could not even return whole to me.” Cersei sighed. “Does the lack of it not bother you?” She frowned. 

“Of course it bothers me.” He waved it at her. “But I might as well accept this is me now and learn to live as such.” He rose and returned to the table. Back to her, he removed the hand and slipped on a piece of cloth to cover the stump that existed where his hand once began. 

“You will never be good again.” She still frowned as he returned to her. 

He shrugged. “I'm at least decent with my left now.” Jaime could take most in an equal fight. “At least my maiming is obvious to every eye. You...” He shook his head and plopped on the bed beside her again. “You may never be whole again, not that anyone will ever see it,” he whispered. 

Cersei didn't raise her eyes, instead she stared at the stump in his lap. 

“I'm sorry I wasn't here to save you,” he whispered into her ear. If there was ever a time he would have wanted to be there to save her, he didn't have to like her anymore to wish her to have not been so tortured. 

She finally looked up at him. “And what would you have done?” She sneered. 

“Fought my way in, rescued you and slit the High Sparrow's throat myself.” Once he would have leered as those words left his mouth, but he couldn't manage it anymore. 

“You and your left hand?” She shook her head. 

“Me, my left hand, the fucking Kingsguard and a host of Lannister men.” They weren't empty words. He would have proved the High Sparrow's suspicions and killed himself in battle against zealots to rescue her. 

Cersei stared at him with empty eyes. Finally she said, “Do you remember when it was the two of us against the world?”

“After mother died.” Jaime nodded. 

“When father locked himself in his office for--”

“--139 days,” Jaime finished. At the time he had counted each one of them. He smiled at the naturalness of completing each other sentences. It once drove their nursemaid crazy. 

“I miss her yet, but can't remember her face anymore.” She frowned. 

“You, Cersei, she looked like you.” Jaime studied his sister and realized for perhaps the first time how much she did resemble their mother Joanna, older though than their mother when childbirth had killed her. He'd worried so much he might lose Cersei as well every time she birthed a child. 

“Perhaps Mrycella would have looked the same as me a decade or two from now.” Cersei frowned. 

“She would have.” Jaime sighed. “I'm sorry...” Not that he should have been sorry as it was his helpless arms their daughter died in. “I'm a man of attack and I did not see the full threat of poison.” He frowned. 

“Fighting and war.” Cersei turned to sit with her legs folded under her on the bed and face him. “You were never good for much else.”

“Guarding doors while Kings raped their wife or fucked whores, that's most of what I've ever done.” Jaime leaned back on his arms, though lopsided with his missing hand. 

“Were you going to tell me what the High Sparrow did to me was my doing?” Cersei asked, eyes cold. 

Jaime shook his head. “You already know, so why tell you.” He looked at her and tried to remember the young woman she'd been, driven to make a difference in life when the only power she had was who she married and whose children she bore. “How many times did I ask you to marry me?”

Cersei smiled. “I've long last count since that first time in the high abandoned towers of Casterly Rock. Besides, we were never getting married.”

“Why?”

“Because the only thing I was to Father was a good match for him and the Lannister.” Cersei frowned down at him. “I was never going to let you take that from me.”

Jaime turned to face her more fully. It reminded him of their childhood, up late sharing secrets and hopes. “Father, the man who would only marry for love, and ever denied me the same.”

“Do you remember your visit when he caught us?” Cersei gave a half smile. “You never mentioned the advice he gave you.”

Jaime frowned. “Half of it proved right. You did marry another. I, however, was not wise enough to not put by incestful bastards in you.”

Cersei gasped. “Must you use that word?”

“Which?” Jaime smirked. “Incest or bastard.”

“Either.” She frowned. “They are my children.”

Jaime nodded. “And you loved, love, them all dearly.” He sighed. “I know.” It was perhaps the one good thing about Cersei, her love for their children.

“Did you not?” Tears welled in her eyes. Her hand protectively fell to her belly where she'd carried them all. 

Jaime frowned. “As much as I was allowed. But two of them are dead now.” Jaime dipped his head and closed his eyes. “Whatever future I might have ever wished with them is gone. Mrycella before she died,” his voice cracked and Jaime head still dipped looked up at her, “she called me father, held my hand, hugged me. I'm not sure I have ever felt happier.” That closeness was something Cersei had every day when they'd been little, something he still envied her. 

“You should not have told Tommen.” Quiet anger filled Cersei's words and it tore Jaime from his grief. 

“All of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms knows, why shouldn't he?” Jaime smirked at her. 

Cersei gave a tight frown in return. He wondered how much it was for the fact Tommen now knew, and how much that she would have to share her son with him.

Jaime shifted closer. “I was not going to let my future with my only remaining child be taken from me too.” 

“But you're marrying another tomorrow, and will put your own rightful heirs in her.” Cersei frowned. “What will Tommen be then?”

“He'll still be my son.” Jaime flattened his face.

“Will you make him nothing more than a bastard?”

Jaime shrugged. “Or the only remaining Baratheon in the Kingdoms.” Now that Tommen knew he may well pick to be only Jaime's bastard, because it was the truth. 

Cersei frowned at him, knowing as well which path Tommen would likely choose. “Robert was not always a bad man.”

Jaime tightened his lips, and left his own thoughts about what Cersei had told him about her wedding day, how Robert loved Lyanna Stark still, always would. He understood Robert's love, but could have killed the man for the heartache he created in Jaime's own love. 

“Do you remember what King Robert looked like when young?” Cersei continued. 

Jaime nodded. He did, a boar of a man, a tested warrior with a hearty grin and ready laugh. Perhaps Jaime would have liked him had Robert not been his sister's husband.

“Before the wine and sloth,” Jaime said. “Before all the whores that defamed you, dear sister.” 

Cersei frowned at him, but tonight Jaime did not feel like speaking anything but the truth. “I did have affections for Robert once.”

“I know.” Jaime frowned. For almost two years he thought he had lost his sister and her love for good. Then whatever she's felt for King Robert burned itself out. 

“We've drifted apart before and come back to each other.” Cersei reached out with her right and took his left, which felt awkward because she would have normally taken his right. “Maybe this will be the same.” Her lips tweaked into a small smile, true and hopeful. 

“It won't.” Jaime frowned. “Too much has changed, in us both.” He wanted to be the man Brienne loved, the better man she somehow knew he could be. So much more than Cersei's secret. 

“I love you Jaime, need you.” Cersei's voice cracked. 

“But you don't anymore.” He frowned and shook his head. “You will find comfort with another, you already have.” It took everything he'd had to return to her from the Riverlands, and he'd returned to find she hadn't really needed him at all during his year away. Because of Brienne, he had not needed Cersei either that year.

“Do you remember the good years?” Cersei asked. “When we made our children?”

She had no need to add the last, Jaime knew which of their years had been the best. They'd known every hiding place in the keep to couple. No one knew the secret actions they did away from prying eyes. He'd loved her with abandon and loved the feeling of flirting with danger they did each time. He'd inwardly laughed at Robert when the other man thought the children Cersei bore were his. It seemed to Jaime they played them all, although now he knew it was all deception because sooner or later a secret as big as he and Cersei bore was going to be discovered. 

“Of course,” Jaime finally said. “When I was arrogant and smug.” And so very, very foolish, he left unspoken. 

“You were a god.” Cersei smiled and reached out to run a hand down his cheek. 

“And you a goddess, dear sister.” Jaime cupped her cheek with his left hand. He almost told her how Brienne called him still half a god, but the words luckily did not cross his lips. Cersei was a jealous woman, even now when he was no longer hers. She would say he was a jealous man, only in truth how could he be and let his love be married to another man for 17 years. 

Cersei shifted closer. She half sat on his lap, their legs tangled. She ran a hand over his chest. “Even thinner than before,” she said. 

Jaime shrugged. He'd been honed into lean sinew and muscle. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “May I see you?” Not that he had ever before asked to see his sister's naked flesh. 

Cersei frowned. “The entirety of the city already has.” 

“I know,” he whispered. He took her onto his lap and wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek. Part of him was angered the entire city had seen what was his, but then Cersei had never been his alone. 

“Would you love my body still? Even knowing how the city has cursed it.” Her voice upon his cheek was so soft he barely heard it. 

The city had not cursed her body, but her actions, her arrogance, but Jaime did not speak of such. Jaime nodded. “Of course I would.” He raised her face to his and gave her a gentle kiss. “You were mine before being anyone else's,” he whispered against her ear. When it had been just them, young and fumbling in the high abandoned towers of Casterly Rock. 

Cersei leaned back and a smiled tugged on her lips. She slid off his lap, her eyes blazed with desire, but her fingers still shook as she lifted her shift up and over her body. 

“Still a goddess.” Jaime smiled, for she was. The most beautiful woman he'd seen, even if it was only superficial. He reached his left hand out to her, which felt odd, because it was his right he so wished to grace her with. His hand down her shoulder, cupped a full breast, down her side and over the lines and puckered flesh left from their children stretching her belly. 

Cersei's smile turned to a leer. “Take off your short clothes and lay on the bed.” Her voice confident even if a shiver ran up her spine. 

Not taking his eyes from her beautiful face and blazing eyes, Jaime did as commanded. It did not surprise him his cock already stood erect. Cersei came to his left side. She ran her hand over him, dipping in and out of the tight muscles, sliding down the merging of his hips to his leg, ghosting over his erection. She liked what she saw still, though she did not voice such. 

“Hands on the headboard,” she said. Jaime did not remind her it would be only hand. His left held a wooden dow of the headboard, his right stub he tugged beneath his left wrist. Cersei ran the scarf she meant to use through her fingers and frowned as she wondered how she would tie his hand and stub together. Finally she lashed together his forearms and bound them to the bed. 

Jaime tugged on the bonds and found himself more trapped than previous times they had done such. Part of him lamented how deviant he could be. Most of him just wanted to give Cersei the control she could take tonight. Tomorrow his future would spiral out of her control. 

Cersei reached behind her and grabbed a candle from his bedtable. It had burned halfway down and melted wax pooled at the top. Jaime gasp as she dipped the candle and let a small drop fall upon his chest. He swallowed and tugged his arms again. His teeth clenched at the next dollop of wax to touch his skin, and the pain of the burn remained trapped in his throat. 

Cersei smiled down at him, he knew the unspoken rules. She straddled his waist and rocked her wetness against his erection. “Do you still want me?” She leered down at him. 

Always and forever, Jaime almost wanted to say, but it would no longer be the truth. Tonight and now he did. He nodded, replied, “Yes.”

Cersei rolled her hips and coated his cock. She must have felt it twitch at her movements. “You want me to sheath that hard cock of yours in my folds. They're wet and ready. They'd wrap around you tight, make you moan and buck your frustrations.” 

Jaime was sure she would, and his skin tingled already at the prospect that she would allow him. But not yet, he knew this game well. His breath puffed from his nose. His teeth clenched. He held his hips still, tense. 

Cersei smiled again and bit at her lip. One hand tugged at a pert nipple. With the other she leaned herself forward gaining the angle she wanted. She rubbed her clit on his erection, used it to fuck herself. It had been too long since he'd been with her, since they had done this. He was out of practice and it took every effort to not buck beneath her, to not reward her. Instead, he watched her tits bounce. He concentrated on how her curls would have once bounced too, showering down on his bare chest and tingling the skin, covering her face. 

She never took her eyes off of him, dilated with lust, her lips parted, her breath coming harsh. “Beg for me, dear brother.” Cersei raised herself up. She took his erection in hand and hovered herself above him, the tip of his cock just there at her entrance. “Beg,” she commanded. 

“Please, dear sister, fuck me.” His voice trembled as much as his body as she lowered herself upon him. 

Cersei did just that. She rode and fucked him until she reached her release once, then twice. Jaime stifled even his groans. His eyes watched her, tits bouncing, hips rolling, fingers pleasing herself. Her eyes stared back at him, cold and calculating mirror images of his own. 

He let her continue until his balls arched for their release. Sweat dripped from his body, spread tight and unable to strike. His arms tugged at their bindings. “Cersei, let me finish, please,” his voice finally betrayed him. She smiled down at him, but only continued to leverage her hips in and out. His heart hammered in his chest, his cock throbbed for release. “Please.” He strangled out again. 

She paused, nodded her head. “Yes, Jaime,” she answered. The pace she set after was fast and crushing. Jaime held on to the slippery edge of his release so he would not finish before her. In his lust filled mind he realized he needed to not finish inside her. He growled. All these years of training his body it only had to wait until her release. He wasn't sure he could hold off his climax for just those few extra seconds for her to get off him. 

He shouldn't have, but he broke eye contact. He lifted his head, clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. The world became Cersei's folds spasming around him and his cock yearning for a release he still denied it. 

Just when Jaime was certain he had failed, he felt Cersei lift off him. Her mouth replaced her folds. His release thundered through his balls. Cersei had barely closed her lips before Jaime bucked into her and spilled himself into her mouth. 

When Jaime finally managed to open his eyes again, Cersei rested her head upon his inner thigh, his spent cock near her cheek. She looked as spent as he felt. She finally climbed up his body and with one twist of her wrist tugged loose the bonds on his arms. She laid back down on his right side, head on her chest. 

Jaime encircled her with his right arm, tired and spent and not thinking about his missing hand. For once she didn't flinch at it. His left hand cupped her head, and fuzz of her short hair. 

“What now?” she finally asked. 

Tomorrow he would marry another and this part of them they'd shared for a lifetime would be over. But he couldn't manage to voice that. She didn't want to hear it anyway. 

“Do you remember when we were mirror images of each other?” Jaime said instead. 

Cersei chuckled and propped her head up on her hands upon his chest. “We would switch for the day. You were so very pretty in my dresses. Likely prettier than your bride ever was.”

Jaime tightened his lips, although Cersei spoke the likely truth. “I was good at stitching too.”

“There were always more flowers after a day of you doing my sewing.”

“They were the funnest to make.” He shrugged. “You would have been a good warrior.”

“An equal to you?” Cersei smiled up at him. 

“No.” Jaime shook his head. “A war general, greater than even Father.” 

Cersei gave a soft sigh against his chest. “We would switch roles at dancing lessons.”

Jaime shifted so they lay propped side by side, still naked. “Whether we switched clothes or not. Lead or follow it never mattered which we did.”

“As long as I was with you.” Cersei smiled. 

“Yes.” Jaime laughed. “You only wanted to lead the other boys.”

And so they lay in bed and shared every story they could think of from their childhood. The good and bad, ones that made them laugh, others that brought tears, they shared them all. Until the candles had burned down to just tallow on the stands and the morning was likely only hours away. Part of him wished to never leave this moment, part of him knew they already had decades before. 

They finally made love one last time, him atop her. They kissed deep and full and sloppy. They rocked gently against each other, enjoying the touch of flesh and how perfectly their bodies still fit together. It reminded Jaime of those months at the end of their youth, before they had to go on to being the people Tywin wished them, the boundary between their childhood and beyond. Him above her, gentle and trying not to hurt her. She still learning the powers her body could hold over him. Except now he knew her inside and out, good and bad, perfections and scars, what excited her and what drove her mad. 

Tears feel from her eyes and trailed down the sides of her face. Jaime felt his heart break in his chest. They both whispered each others names as their bodies surged faster together. He should have pulled out again, but as Cersei finished one last time beneath him, Jaime could not bear to not do so with and inside her. After they lay spent and exhausted. 

“Stay,” Jaime asked. She used to ask the same of him after. He fell into content sleep, his sister and his past lover wrapped tight in his arms. 

With dawn, Jaime awoke alone, her warmth still ghosted on the bed beside him. He wondered if she had lingered for a bit and watched him sleep as he used to do with her. 

He flopped onto his back. Today he began a new life with a devoted woman who would love and cherish him. A woman he did truly mean to do right by. Maybe he would fail her horribly as he had his sister. He hadn't even taken vows with Brienne and had already betrayed her. Every ounce of his being wanted to be the good man Brienne saw in him, but he knew he never would completely, some small part of him would always remain the arrogant, selfish asshole who spent half his life fucking his sister because he wanted to. 

Jaime sat up. He needed to call the servants in. He was famished and could use a hearty breakfast, or two. He had the sheets to change, a good bath to take, his armor to prepare. The new dawn brightened the world and glimmered off the ocean in the distance of his window. A new day for a new life, a new try at being a better man, all and always for Brienne, even if it would break his heart to fail her when it happened. 

The chill of winter encased his bare skin. Cersei was finally no longer his. It felt like half of him had been ripped away, the pain worse than losing his hand, losing his children. He bent his knees, wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged them to his chest. His head fell to his knees. Tears flowed and his body wracked with sobs.


End file.
